


Any Port In A Storm

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dog - Freeform, F/M, Love, M/M, Monroe's Car breaks down, RAINSTORMS, any port in a storm, healing a rift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: In which the Captain has gambled and lost everything, he's still the Captain, but nothing else has gone right, and he's seriously contemplating his options when a little furry friend strolls into his life.





	1. In the beginning... there was rain.

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of Sasha's adorable mini poo, Bernie, this idea popped into my head. This is kind of an au for my own Cottage In The Woods series, in which Nick and the Captain are definitely not together, but a small dog, a rainstorm, a broken down car and some serious coincidences mend things.

He noticed his little shadow almost immediately, it was dark, pouring with rain, but Sean had not survived firstly his family, and secondly, being a police officer without being completely aware of his surroundings at all times. It was a tentative little presence, padding along about five feet back and off to his left, keeping close to the building as he walked along the street.

The street was mostly deserted, it was, after all chucking it down. Sean didn't care that much, he had a rain coat, and he'd unearthed his Portland PD baseball cap from the trunk before he set out.

The little shadow was still there as he crossed the street, rain dripping down the back of his neck, and he paused on the corner to flip the collar of his raincoat up, fastening the button. Sensing the presence a little closer, he spun round, quick flash of his woge, bared teeth, the hiss more of a threat than his growl could be.

The small, rusty-brown dog stopped. One paw raised. It tilted its head to one side, neither impressed nor intimidated by his display. Unbidden, a small smile graced Sean's lips, the dog wasn't scared of him. Just curious. He turned back in the direction he had been heading, as the sky redoubled its efforts to drown him, and mentally cursed his own paranoia. Parking far away seemed like the best option for his supermarket run, but under the circumstances perhaps not his cleverest move.

Thoughts of the last six months rose up as Sean's lips turned down again. He had been working on forgetting the last six months. He had screwed up everything, he was still Captain, by the skin of his teeth, but he had actually come close to demotion, and he'd destroyed his working relationships too. Never thought he would miss them, but he did, and he had no idea how to repair any of them, even if he could, even if he wanted to and he'd been barely able to admit that to himself.

The rain was now soaking through his raincoat, it was shower proof, but this was no shower, and he surprised himself by sparing a brief thought for his small shadow.

Reaching his Tahoe, he was drenched through and starting to shiver. He pulled the cap off, tossing it into the trunk with his bag of shopping, which he placed carefully so that it wouldn't tip over. Under the limited shelter of the tailgate he glanced down.

The little dog was still there. Its brown curly fur was plastered to its body. It stared up at him, no fear in its gaze, just a calm expectation that made Sean spread his arms wide, "What? I haven't got time for a dog." He could hear that lie in his head and winced. Truth was, he really had nothing but time. Adalind hated him, and since his spectacular failure to come out on top, Diana had expressed very little interest in being with her father.

The dog sat down, and scratched its left ear with its hind foot. Sean scowled, he was losing it.

He slammed the tailgate unnecessarily and stamped round to the driver's door. Yanking a towel over from the passenger side, he stripped his raincoat and folded it, onto the passenger seat, jumped into the driver's seat before he could get any wetter and slammed the door.

Glanced into the driver's side mirror.

Swore under his breath, and threw the door open again.

"Well." the little brown dog walked calmly up to the open door, Sean leaned down and scooped it up in one large hand. Awkwardly pulling the door shut with his other hand for a second the small, soaked creature was pressed against his chest, he could feel the heartbeat, calm and steady, the wet fur drenching him further, through his expensive dress shirt he could feel the animal's slight shiver, and curiously a feeling he could swear he had never felt before. Not even wanting to attempt to process that, and ignoring the wet, and the dirt, he made a rough sort of nest out of his five hundred dollar raincoat, snatched the other towel he kept in the car from the footwell of the passenger seat and staged a hasty dry up of his unexpected companion.

Two round brown eyes, like little boot buttons peered up at him from under a haphazard topknot of rusty-brown curls. There was no collar, and from the state of the fur, and the slightly too-lean body, Sean surmised that that this resilient stray had been on the streets for weeks.

"I don't have time for a dog. I don't need a pet in my life." Sean wished he sounded a bit more authoritative and a lot less like he was trying to convince himself. Surprisingly shrewd brown eyes met his. The dog yawned mightily, revealing tiny sharp white teeth, Sean downward-estimated its age by a few months, it gave him another of its thoroughly unimpressed stares, scraped at his raincoat until it considered its nest satisfactory, ignored Sean's glare as damp and dirt defiled his coat, and settled down.

Turning the heater up full blast, hoping that he and his passenger would be dry by the time he drew up outside his home, Sean peeled out of the parking lot and headed for his place.


	2. The Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean is fed up with the endless trail of people who keep coming to his front door. It's never anything good. So he buys himself a few acres of forest, and the ramshackle cabin built in the middle.

Sean reached out for his pen, to sign the various forms Wu had placed in front of him. Bad move, the shoulder injury was still hampering him, he glanced up to see if Wu had registered the small hiss of pain. The sergeant's impassive expression suggested that even if he noticed, he didn't actually care.

Good.

Even if inside there was a twinge in an area that Renard might have termed his heart.

He told himself that was the way he wanted it.

He finished the signatures, and used his foot to turn his chair, no sense in letting Wu see that. His cracked ribs were bothering him. Without a word, he handed the file to the sergeant. Wu took it without a word and left the office.

With his office blinds closed, Sean hastily stuffed a few things in his briefcase. Time to get out of there. It was shift end, and he had been looking forward to this all week.

The cabin was small, secluded, and not exactly on any beaten track. The very mature trees surrounding it concealed it from the air. Just lately anyone making tracks to his front door, was bad news. Sean was tired. These latest injuries, his right shoulder had at the very least a torn rotator cuff, he had two cracked ribs (at least) also on the right and he was in very poor shape because of the need to conceal these injuries from the Grimm and his friends.

He could not afford to show any weakness.

Forcing himself to stride out of the office as though he hadn't a care in the world, he never noticed the Grimm's grey eyes follow him.

 

Nick didn't really know why he was concerned. Renard had done the dirty on him, and Adalind, and Nick's son. Even Renard's daughter didn't seem all that interested in her father since his fall from grace. It was clear to Nick that the older man was carrying a couple of injuries, and had been for a least a couple of weeks. From the studiously impassive expression on Renard's face whenever he thought someone might be watching, the damage was bad. Faking it for over a fortnight meant that the injuries were not healing properly.

Nick sighed. It was not his problem, but that didn't seem to matter. He didn't want to care. But he did. For the last couple of weeks he had attempted to track Renard. Found the man's Tahoe twice. Followed him to that fancy house he owned. Tracked him to a garage, but it was clear Sean Renard was switching cars, and so far Nick's efforts to find the man's other vehicle had failed. Once he had even caught a glimpse of Renard, carrying a duffle bag, his briefcase and strangely, a little brown dog with curly fur. The little creature was cuddled up to Renard, in an expression of trust, and Nick wondered if that was the only creature who trusted Renard these days.

If he wanted to find Renard, he was going to have to get sneaky.

So breaking into Renard's official house, finding the duffle bag, putting the tiny tracker inside it... It was definitely sneaky. Nick told himself that knowing where Renard was and what he was up to was just protecting himself. Knew it really wasn't.

 

Renard had an instinct for these things, besides he and his mother had been on the run since before Sean became a teenager. Some things were ingrained. He went through his duffle bag, found the tracking device. It was police issue, and he knew it was Nick.

Sean was tired, the pain from his shoulder, far from improving, was getting worse. He didn't have the strength to fight back and all he wanted to do was get Rusty, his bag and escape for the weekend. The cabin was already stocked with everything he needed. There was a cellar, supplies for months, he had a satellite phone, a few burners, Canadian passport, he had been establishing an id for nearly a year now. He had brought a yacht, moored on the Great Lakes, and he had any number of possible exit routes. Ways and means that his paternal family would never find.

Rusty clung to Master's left leg. He could sense that Master was hurt. Watched Master pack a second bag.

Sean bent to pick up the bags, and his head swam, vision blurred. No one to see, but Rusty, and he let his legs buckle, dump him on his ass on the bed.

Rusty sat at Master's feet, and gently patted Master's leg with a tentative paw. He could read the pain in Master's face, but Master made an effort to smile, a large gentle hand ruffled Rusty's curls, and the little dog pressed closer.

Sean let the little pink tongue caress his hand for a moment.

He never intended keeping the little dog. A few discreet enquiries told him that Rusty was in all likelihood a stray. Weeks passed, and somehow when he next turned round he was the proud owner of a dog.

A living being to come home to.

He was probably going soft. Because that had never mattered before.

He dragged himself upright, and made it downstairs with the bags and out to the car. He couldn't sense Nick nearby which was a plus, Rusty jumped into the Tahoe's footwell and then up to the seat. Sean locked the house, and set off.

He drove a random route, doubling back on himself. No tail, but he guessed that Nick was tailing him via the tracker, and he planned to deal with that. It was only when he arrived at his parking garage that he glimpsed Nick's truck with its owner in the driving seat. Forcing himself not to react, he parked, knowing that he couldn't leave the bag with the tracker in the Tahoe as he had intended.

Sean stuffed the tracker in his pocket, ignoring the flames of pain scorching his shoulder, picked up Rusty and the second bag and made his way to his second parking place. It was four streets over, very small, discreet and looked a little seedy, which given his truck, was no bad thing.

Modern vehicles had too much technology, the Scout was old, beat up and looked exactly what it was, a working vehicle, which in theory could be fixed by the side of the road without need for expensive fancy equipment, and best of all, it was older than he was. No lo-jack or anything like it. It was tatty but perfectly functional and that suited Renard.

He made it without any apparent tail, which was good.

Unfortunately, no refinements meant no power steering, and the truck was heavy. The added pressure of needing to escape from Nick was making Sean's shoulder throb unpleasantly. He retrieved the windcheater and bucket hat from their hiding place in the trunk of the Scout. Slipped them on, he'd changed to jeans at the house, so whilst not much of a disguise as disguises went, he knew he looked different enough that he might get away with it.

The Scout might have looked a bit of a wreck, but he had had it tuned up, and the old vehicle started first time every time he turned the key.

Luck was on his side, as he pulled out into the street, a pick up going the other way gave him enough time to lob the tracker into the open back.

Well he'd found a second garage, and obviously there was a second vehicle, but Nick had no idea what, especially when he chased down the tracker and found a bewildered garden maintenance service and no sign of Sean Renard.

 

It was a good hour to the cabin, and while on the roads, Sean's shoulder settled down to a nagging pain. But once he left the highway, the unmade back road and the heavy steering made the pain worse and worse. By the time he pulled the Scout around the back of the cabin, Sean could barely see straight, with heavy legs and blurred vision he stumbled to the front door, barely getting it open before his knees buckled and he fell in through the doorway.

Rusty moved up close to Master, licked Master's cheek, which usually made Master angry, but he had no response, so Rusty curled up under Master's chin, pressed against his chest, and waited.


	3. I vant to be alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean Renard is bruised and battered, his shoulder is killing him, all he really wants to do is hole up in his private little shack and be miserable for a while without anyone coming to wale at him or be angry at him. Him, his dog, some good books, a roaring fire and his supplies. Peace and quiet should be easy.
> 
> But a rainstorm, a dead car and some Wesen have other ideas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the inspiration required for this one was an adorable picture of Sasha stretched out on his couch reading, with Bernie asleep on his thighs.
> 
> The Captain's private brooding space is about to become busier than Piccadilly Circus at rush hour.

Renard eased himself down onto his couch with a grimace and a cut off hiss. The shoulder was a mess, he had woken to find himself on the floor, in the doorway (which quite naturally was still wide open), Rusty curled against his chest occasionally giving Sean's chin and neck a comforting lick.

For once the zauberbiest was not going to have a go at his dog, the licking _was_ surprisingly comforting. So Sean held the woge back; nearly losing control when he managed to drag himself to his feet. The shoulder was sore and throbbing. He got a grip on himself and took some time to organise himself.

He had a sling in his bag, left from a previous injury, but getting it to sit right to support his shoulder was difficult one-handed, especially as the injury was to his dominate side. He persisted, and got it mostly right, gathered up all his needs for at least a night in front of the fire, the couch was huge and wide, and supportive enough to sleep on. He had a small pile of books on the small side table, a tray with some tasty foods, a big bottle of water, a coffee pot which he filled to avoid trips to the kitchen, and a bottle of an effective painkiller that he had gotten from Rosalee. Since he had no plans to drive anywhere for at least three days, and he knew taking a dose would definitely make him drowsy, he held off taking it.

Luckily he had set the fire to be ready the last time he had been up to the shack. All it needed was a match, which given the state of his right arm was easier said than done, but he managed it, then settled himself on the couch. Rusty hopped up nimbly and made himself comfortable squashed between Master's thigh and the back of the couch.

Sean picked up a book and leaned cautiously back into the several cushions he had positioned to support his back and shoulder.

Man and dog relaxed.

 

When the lights first flickered Monroe had a sinking feeling, but in the interests of not scaring his wife, especially when they were so far from home, he decided to say nothing. He nursed the car, but the lights kept dimming for increasing periods, when the engine began to snatch and stutter, he realised he was not going to get much further.

"Rosalee. Hunny..."

She was calm. "I know."

He pumped the accelerator in desperation, but the engine coughed a few times and died. They were on a down slope and he managed to coast into a place where they could pull off the road.

"Now what?" Rosalee's expression was soft and fond, but with an underlying hint of steel that said he had better have a plan better than sitting there all night waiting for someone to come along. Monroe checked his phone. Barely one bar, it kept flickering, but he sent a message to Nick in the hope that it got through and took his bearings. He recognised where they were.

"Hey, there's a cabin just through the woods there, it's not much, but it's been for sale forever. Never even locked, so I am sure they won't mind us using it to stay warm."

"Really?" Rosalee looked doubtful.

Monroe was decisive. "Yes." He opened the door and got out, snagging his coat from the back seat. "Better leave a note for Nick," he scrabbled in his pocket for a pen. Rosalee sighed and followed more slowly.

They had barely gone a couple of hundred yards when the skies opened. Monroe glanced up in irritation. "Really?" He asked the sky. Rosalee smirked a little and squeezed his hand. "Yes dear." She murmured fondly.

They tramped on. The rain coming down in sheets.

 

Renard could hear the wind whistling around and the rain battering the roof, felt grateful that he was indoors, all the windows were shut and he didn't even have to go outside for more logs, as he had had the foresight to stack them next to the fireplace before he had locked up last time. Given the state of his shoulder, that was definitely a good thing. He was warm, and reasonably comfortable if he didn't move around too much. Rusty was curled up on Master's thighs slumbering peacefully.

 

The first thing Rosalee noticed was that the cabin was most certainly not unoccupied. The second that it was now apparently owned by somebody. The For Sale sign had gone. And she could see part of a vehicle parked behind the low building.

"Monroe." She hissed.

Monroe was wet, cold, and he couldn't believe that anyone would throw them back out into the rain again. So he strode confidently up to the door and knocked.

 

The thud of something hitting the door jolted Sean out of the doze he had lapsed into, and he jumped, his shoulder objecting to the sudden movement. Rusty sprang down, a series of low growls turning into barking.

"Rusty." Sean growled, holding his shoulder, damn that hurt. He dragged himself to his feet, perhaps he could woge and drive his unexpected visitors off.

He flung the door open, "What?!" he barked, throwing as much command into his tone as he could manage. Then his eyes widened, and something flickered in his left cheek.

Monroe stared at the angry zauberbiest in the doorway, had a moment to recognise that it was Renard, before a small brown curly furred dog rushed out and began to bark at the uninvited guests.


	4. Well This is Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain tries to avoid having anything to do with his uninvited guests.

For a minute Sean's paranoia rose up... _how the hell did they know where to find him?_ He just wanted to be left alone. Insecurity and the actual pain in his shoulder warred with the society manners that his mother had instilled in him at a very early age. Manners won.

"Rusty..." Sean stepped back and held the door wide, as Rusty stopped barking and slunk in through the door, growling under his breath and giving the tall man the stink eye. He could smell wolf, and fox, and Master did not look happy.

Monroe could be remarkably obtuse sometimes, Rosalee sighed inwardly and followed her husband.

"Bathroom's there, bedroom's behind and the kitchen's over there." Sean slunk back to the couch, and his disturbed evening of peace.

Monroe opened his mouth to say something, probably something extremely unhelpful, Rosalee quelled him with a look, stripping off her wet coat, she hung it behind the door. "Sean." She said, keeping her voice soft and gentle. Up close, the bruising she could see on his shoulder looked really bad, and the sling wasn't actually supporting the injury, Rosalee reached out, slowly, making eye contact, disturbed that his shields seemed less down as gone for good. The look in his eyes was hard and angry, but there were other things there too. She gently rested her hand on his arm, Sean closed his eyes and nodded once. He was in pain, and whilst he really didn't trust any of the others, he did trust Rosalee. She had been a friend of a kind for a lot longer than either of them had ever admitted publically.

Rosalee very carefully adjusted the sling’s position and tightened the straps, trying to move his arm as little as possible, finally easing it all into position, and letting him relax his arm into the support.

The dog was surprise, Sean had never really seemed the kind to get a pet, and the little rusty brown creature curled up on his lap, and giving Rosalee some very suspicious looks didn't really look like the kind of dog she ever imagined the Captain would get. But his free hand was buried in the curly fur, and the little creature moved to rest its chin on the back of the Captain's wrist. Still watching Rosalee suspiciously.

Monroe had taken the hint, divested himself of his jacket and busied himself with making some more tea.

Sean seemed to actually be falling asleep under her hands, which came as a bit of a surprise. Rosalee had thought that she couldn't trust Renard, and he certainly seemed to have lost all trust in any of them. Perhaps it was just his injury. And good manners, she decided.

The couch was large and l-shaped, and while Renard was occupying the longer seating area, there was a return, which left more than enough room for two to sit. So Rosalee sat, and waited for Monroe to finish making the tea, while Sean dozed, his free hand in his dog’s fur, and Rusty watched the interlopers.

The fox smelt right to Rusty, and she helped Master, so while he was suspicious, Rusty held back on the growling. The wolf he was not so sure about, but the wolf was with the fox, and had so far stayed away from Master.

Monroe carried the tray over to his wife, their host appeared to have fallen asleep, slightly turned away from them, facing the back of the couch, the little dog curled up on top of his hip, his hand in its fur, and the dog’s nose resting on his Master’s wrist. The little dog’s shrewd brown eyes narrowed a little at the sight of the wolf, and something like a far off rumble of thunder let Monroe know that Rusty was watching.

Of all the creatures Monroe had ever met, Sean Renard seemed the least likely to have a pet. And a dog at that. It was a funny little creature, nothing like any dog that Monroe could actually have imagined the Captain with. Brown eyes, shiny like buttons, watched the visitors closely, and seemed ready to defend the zauberbiest from all comers, starting with Monroe and Rosalee.

“Well this is awkward,” Monroe whispered to his wife.

Rosalee rolled her eyes. “He hasn’t flung us out into the rain, and he was clearly horrified that we found him.” She whispered back.

“Well, I don’t trust him.”

Rosalee had the strongest feeling that the Captain was more awake than he appeared, but was faking sleep to avoid conversation. “I think that feeling is pretty mutual.”  
Monroe stirred his tea thoughtfully.

 

The rain was lashing down when Nick finally found the Bug by the side of the road. The note in Monroe’s elegant handwriting informed him that they had gone to seek shelter in an old cabin in the woods. If he basically walked straight from the oak tree third from the left behind the car, he would come across the cabin in about a mile.

Nick scowled. Sometimes Monroe’s idea of sensible was mixed up. They could have stayed with the car, knowing that Nick would find them.  
Sighing, he pulled his collar up and set off in the direction of Monroe’s mythical cabin.

 

Sean was more comfortable since Rosalee had adjusted the sling, but the pain in his shoulder kept yanking him out of sleep. Faking it to avoid conversation was Sean’s plan, and maybe a little childish but he was tired and figured they were uninvited, therefore not his problem.

 

She could see he was faking, every so often his hand would clench, ever so slightly, in the dog’s curly fur, and his features would tighten with pain. Frankly, she was amazed he had been able to drive in that condition. She knew no one really cared about whatever Sean might be suffering, especially after Black Claw and everything that had gone down, but perhaps that had been part of the problem. No one in their little group had ever shown much concern over anything that the Captain might be going through. He had actually died for Nick at one point. Perhaps if they had been less concerned with motive, and looked at Sean’s actions, especially in the last couple of years, before Black Claw, perhaps things might have gone differently.

She had no idea how or where he had been injured, or even how long ago, but the shoulder was not healing, despite Sean’s naturally enhanced healing abilities, and she had the feeling he had ignored the original injury in favour of appearing to be fine in front of his detectives.

Maybe if they had done more to keep Sean on side, he would have turned towards them, not away from them. She knew he was a man ruled by ambition, but he was also a man who had spent most of his existence running and fighting for his life. That was bound to colour his thinking. He sat uneasily in the world, without a real place to his name, his natural survival instincts were bound to kick in at some point.

 

The knock at the door startled her, and Nick’s voice calling her name, for one frozen second as Sean came fully awake with a start, Rosalee had just enough time to realise that this might have been a big mistake.


	5. The Port is Very Stormy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One small angry dog, a grumpy Grimm, and a zauberbiest at the end of his rope.

Nick was grumpy. He figured he was entitled, it was the second time today he was wet through. He was also cold and wishing that Monroe and Rosalee had waited with the Bug and not taken it into their heads to go trekking about the forest searching for log cabins.

He was quite grateful that Monroe's strange directions had actually worked, when the cabin came into view he marched up to the door and knocked. Idly noting that there was a vehicle behind the building, so definitely occupied. The cop part of Nick's brain noted that remote, mostly concealed cabin, occupied, usually meant the owner didn't want to be found, uncertain of what he would find, he plastered his best 'boy next door' expression on his face.

The knock at the door sounded like thunder to Monroe's suddenly nervous mind. He shot a glance at Rosalee, and nearly missed the look on the Captain's face.  
Sean stumbled to his feet, not even bothering to hide the wince as he jolted his injured shoulder and Rusty ran to the door.

Nick took a step back as a volley of furious barking accompanied some angry sounding footsteps to the door. He took a step back as the door was yanked open.  
Sean had known it was going to be Nick. Afterall, who else would Monroe have called, he thought bitterly. The one person in the world that Sean did not want to see. He nearly woged, only the crumbling remnants of his dignity catching the movement. Nick had taken everything from Sean, if he could hold on to the woge, it was something.

He turned away, ashamed to find he was shaking, casting an angry glance at Rosalee and Monroe he walked to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

Rusty barked viciously, he could sense Master was even unhappier at the sight of this visitor and he wanted rid of the interloper.

Nick just stared. "Er... Monroe?"

"Dude, I didn't know." Monroe shrugged, baffled. Everything they knew of Renard was that the man kept everything hidden. Most of the time they couldn't trust him and he had tried to kill Nick. Now the man had had some kind of what amounted to an emotional breakdown, right in front of them, and they didn't know what to think.

Nick found himself a little preoccupied with the bruising and swelling on Renard’s right shoulder, he’d known the man was hurt, but didn’t think it was that bad, clearly it was. He moved towards the bedroom door, intent on getting to the bottom of the Captain’s injury, conveniently overlooking that they were currently sworn enemies.

A rumble of something that sounded like bad-tempered thunder rose up from the floor. Nick looked down, in time to catch the breeze that fluttered through the short brown curly beard, a flash of sharp white, and the intense gaze of two small brown button-like eyes.

Nick backed up. “Good dog.” He soothed, anxiously, the brief glimpse of small but very sharp looking fangs convinced him that moving forward might not be a very good idea.

Rusty laid his head on his paws and eyed the stranger, keeping up that deep rumble in his chest, while trying to figure the man out. Master clearly didn’t like him, but Rusty couldn’t actually smell any negative intent on the man, the quiet way he approached Master’s door seemed more positive.

Rusty stopped growling.

The dog stopped growling at him, and Nick was slightly confused, at first it seemed as though the little dog hated him, but now? Nick studied Sean’s dog. He never would have thought of the Captain having a dog, and a small curly-furred creature like this. Somehow he could picture the man with a huge hunting dog, but not this funny little creature. 

He stepped forward again, tentatively stretching out his hand to the dog.

“The Captain calls him Rusty.” Monroe, just behind him.

Nick crouched and stretched his fingers out a little further. Rusty didn’t move, just lay with his head on his paws. Nick’s hand brushed the soft coat, and Rusty stayed still, turning his eyes towards Master’s bedroom door.

It was funny, Nick decided, the little dog seemed to understand that Nick did not intend to hurt Sean, rather the opposite. Which came as a surprise to Nick, because up until ten minutes ago, he wasn’t certain what he was going to do to Sean.

The mere fact he was thinking of the zauberbiest as Sean said a lot.

Nick decided to test the theory.

 

Sean ached like hell, the last jolt to his shoulder seemed to have worsened the problem, and now the waves of pain were steadily breaking over his head. He sat hunched over on the bed, straining to hear if his unwanted guests had taken the hint and left him alone. Like he wanted. Like he intended.

The quiet click of the door opening behind him told him that the unwanted guests were still there, and one, and he could guess which one, had the cheek not to take the hefty hint of the vacated lounge area and the closed bedroom door, and even now was breaching Sean’s territory.

Sean’s private, bedroom, closed door territory.

“Sean.”

The voice was gentle, the touch of the hand on his undamaged shoulder made Sean want to relax into it, and stiffen up to throw it off at the same time.  
Head bent, he kept his eyes closed and gritted his teeth.

His zauberbiest didn’t throw his hand off, so Nick took that as something of a win, actually more of a truce, probably. Nick eyed the bruising around Sean’s injured shoulder with concern, he could tell the man was hurting, part of him wanted to say ‘good, he deserved it’, but the far greater part want to soothe the injured biest.

“that looks bad…”

“it feels it.” Sean’s tone was flat, but his otherwise mild response surprised him. From the look on Nick’s face when the Grimm rounded the end of the bed and stood in front of him, it surprised Nick too.

 

Sean was tired, feeling thoroughly pissed off, sore, and had been looking forward to an isolated weekend of peace. Fate had conspired to have some of the very people he had been hoping not to see for at least the weekend land right on his doorstep; yet when he searched his feelings about it he found he really didn’t care as much as he imagined he would.

He actually welcomed Nick’s appearance.

That was very confusing.

He leaned forward a little, intending to stand up, and couldn’t supress the groan when his shoulder moved.

Nick’s hand was on his good shoulder, over the pounding in his head, Sean dimly recognised that it was Nick’s voice calling Rosalee, in a vague sort of way he approved, as the room swayed a little, Sean let go.

“SHIT!” Sean’s eyes rolled up, and he passed out cold into Nick’s startled arms. “ROSALEE!”


	6. Messing with the Grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean and Nick have reached understanding.
> 
> Rusty on the other hand... not so much.

"YEARRRRRRGGGHHHH!"

The shriek echoed throughout the cabin, not that that was hard to do, the cabin not being particularly big. An unkind person might have called it unmanly.  
Sean was stretched out on the couch, pillows at his back, book in hand, legs stretched out on the long seat. He was comfortable. He had no intention of moving. He did lower the book a little to peer at his dog, curled up on Sean's thighs, apparently peacefully. Green eyes met brown... the brown ones had the merest suggestion of a twinkle.

"You didn't."

Rusty yawned mightily. An impressive display of gleaming white teeth, before resting his head back on Sean's lap.

"SEAN!" Nick's voice was filled with an emotion that Sean knew wasn't a happy one. He put his book down, as the man himself appeared in the doorway.

Sean was about to ask, but Nick beat him to it. Not that he was deflecting. Oh no.,. "Sean... why is your arm out of its sling?"

"It's fine." Sean hated the sling, almost as much as he hated how the combined nagging of Rosalee, Monroe and Nick, they had finally got him to make a proper doctor's appointment to have the shoulder actually x-rayed and assessed. He wasn't overly happy about the verdict. An operation, and the mandatory rest that came with it either, and he suspected that he was really going to hate the physiotherapy to come. Six whole weeks of it.

Three and a half months after his first disastrous encounter with the people he never wanted to find his bolt hole, and it had come to this. Him laid up, while his Grimm took care of him. Sean was still puzzled by this, but found himself curiously serene about it. A state of being he really couldn't remember experiencing before.

His life had got better. Better than he probably had no right to expect, but his daughter was back in his life, and Sean found that whatever had happened between him and Adalind, was nothing. Diana loved him. And that was all that mattered.

Nick too. Now that was the facer. His feelings about Nick had always been hidden below the surface, Sean loved women, but he had loved men too. And his feelings for Nick were bound up in more than just the Grimm. For a man whose past was all pain, he was coming to accept that things could be good without what he had thought he needed, power and position.

Nick was moving, Sean found himself leaning forward, letting Nick settle his right arm back into the sling, plump the pillows behind him, Nick's hand on Sean's bare shoulder, over the dressing covering the stitches, rubbing, very gently.

Sean eased back into the pillows, grumpily accepting that this was going to be his lot in life. And speaking of lots in life. He glanced up at his Grimm.  
“What was that?”

Nick blushed and hung his head. Sean waited.

Finally Nick dug his hand in his pocket, held up the bedraggled end of a boot lace. “He hates me, that’s the third time this month.”

Sean stared at the bootlace. It looked chewed. “He’s a dog.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed and his hands went to his hips. “It’s much more than that and you know it.”

Sean’s book-free hand slid into Rusty’s soft curly fur. The brown eyes opened. They had a twinkle.

More of a slightly fanatical gleam, Sean did have to admit to himself.

Sean might have forgiven the Grimm, as much as the Grimm had apparently forgiven him, but Rusty had other ideas, and Nick’s first meeting with Sean’s dog had not been auspicious. Master might be forgiving, but Rusty was going to remind the Grimm he was there on sufferance. Rusty’s.

 

It was extremely late, the fire was dying down, and they were going to have to make a move soon, because an all-nighter on the couch was not going to be good for either of them, especially as neither of them was seventeen any more. Sean was awake. Sort of. His head was resting against Nick’s shoulder, and he had found himself in the peculiar position of being the comforted rather than the comfortee. Nick’s arms were around him. Nick was open-mouthed and snoring into the pillow next to Sean’s ear. Sean was fairly certain Canadian Lumberjacks made less noise felling trees, but realised that the snoring was not what woke him.

By the light of the fire, he watched Rusty slinking by… The dog turned his head to glance back at master, the gleam in his eyes, matched by the shine of something he had in his mouth. Sean’s brain extrapolated shape and he shot a fierce glance at the occasional table next to the couch. His phone lay in solitude.

Sean should wake Nick, but Nick was so tired, and besides, they could go looking for it later. When it was less cold, less wet and a lot less dark.

He closed his eyes. A small smile graced his lips. 

 

Sean woke to the comfort of his bed, the empty space beside him and the sounds of rummaging and muttered curses. He only vaguely remembered leaving the couch and stumbling with Nick into the bedroom. The minor humiliation of having toothpaste squeezed onto his toothbrush, and having to decline very firmly a suggestion of more personal services. He might have been accepted back into the fold. Sort of. And he might be grateful for the care that Nick was bestowing, but matters of a much more intimate nature?

Sean shuddered. There were things that a man preferred that another man (or woman) did not see. Knowledge that these things were perfectly natural and happened was more than enough. Empirical evidence was not necessary.

There was a warm patch just by Sean’s right knee. Sean eyed his furry companion. “Okay, so where did you bury it?” Impassive stare. “You did bury it. I know you did.” Rusty yawned as though greatly put upon by Sean’s less than grateful response to Rusty’s righteous defense.

He thrust the nose under his thigh, and licked his balls, ignoring Master’s look of distaste and actual wince. If Rusty was going to go hunting for Grumpy’s phone, a little personal grooming was in order.

Sean followed the dog to the door, and opened it. Nick’s scowl was black as thunder, he was muttering under his breath and the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip was pinched into a firing stance.

Sean didn’t find it amusing and adorable… No. Indeed he didn’t.

 

Rusty glanced back, just enough to check that Grumpy was following him. He started to dig.

 

Sean made himself breakfast, which he decided to take on the porch. So that he could admire the view.

 

Rusty pottered, occasionally pausing to dig, keeping his digging and wandering erratic. And Grumpy looked ready to explode. He was covered in dirt, immensely satisfying to Rusty. Even Master appeared to be enjoying the spectacle.

 

Nick held the phone between thumb and forefinger. It was covered in dirt, mud clogging all its orifices, and he very much doubted it would ever work again. There was an aroma from the dirt on his hands, that made him suspect that the Captain’s fleabag had given the phone its own personal rinse after burying it.

Oh how he hated that dog.

And Sean loved the dog. 

 

Rusty jumped down from his comfortable place on Sean’s lap, and sat down in front of the very grumpy Grimm. “You win, fleabag.” Nick couldn’t quite believe he was actually arguing with a dog. “We both know this thing is really primal.”

Rusty looked bored, and turned to mine for an imaginary flea in his fur. Nick sighed. _Defeated by a seven-pound dog_.


End file.
